It's Not What You're Running To, It's What You're Running From
by spezria26
Summary: Three months ago Beca was kidnapped and raped by her so-called best friend Jesse. Thankfully, Portland PD intervened. Wanting to escape the bad memories she moves to the sleepy town of Barden. Meeting Chloe was coincidence, nothing special, but over time the two find themselves falling in love. But Beca's past threatens to follow her. Not scary, just didn't have another category
1. Chapter 1: Haunted

**New story. My first one ever for Pitch Perfect! I'm excited for this cliché idea and I hope you enjoy. If you have the time you should check out LoveandFury's stories because I have never regretted reading any of those brilliant works! **

**Inspiration: I got this idea from a mix of Safe Haven (even though I've never seen the movie or read the book, but in the trailer it looked like she was getting chased), Shattering Glass by letsdosomeliving, and a combo of all cliché cops shows I've ever seen. Enjoy!**

Haunted

My head throbbed, my arm ached, and my ankle felt sprained. What had happened? I think I opened my heavy eyelids, but I can't tell because both positions are pitch black. Not a shred of light seeped in from wherever I was. As I tried to move my hands from behind my back I noticed them rub against cold, rough rope. I was being held against my will. What had happened? Finally, my brain turned back on and my memories exploded back to the forefront of my head. Jesse.

I had been lying horizontally on the couch, my legs draped over Jesse's, as we ate Chinese take-out. Kimmy-Jin, my roommate, was nowhere to be found, claiming she couldn't stand the rancid smell of 'fake Chinese food.' Jesse had insisted that we watch "The Breakfast Club" because it was one of his favorite movies of all time. He was in the middle of quoting a random line along with the character when someone knocked on my door. I already knew who it was, the same person who'd been knocking on my door for the past month.

Wanting to avoid watching any more of the movie I stood up quickly and sped towards the door. "Hello again Lilly," I said with a pleasant smile. She replies, but she's too quiet for me too actually hear what she's saying. I send her a dazzling smile, pretending I know what she said, and take the flowers from her hands. She pulls the clipboard out from under her arm and gives it over to me expectantly. I sign my signature in one fell swoop, say goodnight, and bustle back into my dorm room.

Jesse instantly sits up straighter when he sees the bouquet in my hands. "Hey, more flowers from Mr. Anonymous?"

"Yup," I say with an enchanted smile. Whoever was sending these was quite the charmer. "I wonder who sends them."

"I think we both know who it is," Jesse says with a wink. What? Does he know something I don't? Spotting a note I pluck it out of the giant mass of flowers. Whoever had been sending me these bouquets had been sending them for months. Each bundle of flowers had a new note on it, always written on music note stationary, and had some romantic song lyrics on them. Most of them were cute and flirtatious, but this one was definitely more than flirtatious.

**Marry Me?**

**If I ever get the nerve to say hello in this café**

**Say you will?**

Um…wow. That is so sweet! I turn around to show Jesse excitedly, I usually end up subjecting him to girl talk, but as soon as I spin around I see Jesse descend down onto one knee. "Jesse?" I say uncertainly.

He reaches down into the hidden pocket in the lining of his jacket. I watch his hands like they're the only things that exist. They grasp onto something small, box like, and I get nervous. As he pulls it out my worst fears are confirmed. A blue velvet box is revealed and he pops it open. Hoping my eyes are deceiving me, I see a beautiful ring with a giant diamond surrounded by smaller diamonds. "Marry Me Beca?"

Not a hint of sarcasm or jokiness is on his face. He's more serious than a funeral. "Um… Jesse, you're really starting to freak me out here." I slowly start backing away towards the door. "Please get off the ground and laugh already," I beg.

"Beca?" He looks at me with a confused look. "What are you talking about? Why would I laugh at such a serious occasion?" This is not the Jesse I know.

"S-seriously Jesse, this isn't f-f-unny anymore," I stutter. How far away is the door?

"I'm not trying to be funny Beca. Our chemistry is undeniable. Don't you feel it? Every time I'm around you my world lights up and I'm happier than I've ever felt before!" His eyes light up brighter than the sun and his gaze wanders off towards some distant land where the two of us are in love. That's when I accept the fact that Jesse is being dead serious. The Jesse I know, the funny soul and geeky friend, had disappeared. Somebody I don't know replaced him. "I know we've never been on a proper date but Beca, what we have together, it's meant to be. Why bother with dating?"

Fuck! Shit! "Jesse, you know I love you," I begin to say before I'm cut off by the boy with puppy-dog eyes.

"See! You love me to! Say yes Beca! The heavens have deemed you mine and me yours!"

"AS A FRIEND JESSE! I love you as a friend. Any feelings beyond that don't exist," I yell frantically. "This," I make a motion with my hand, showing the space between us, "Is never going to happen because I don't love you like that!"

Jesse looked down at the ground, a puzzled look crossing his face. I had gotten through to him. I had set him straight and soon he'd forget all about this fantastical love that he had imagined in his head. I took a step closer to him, ready to comfort him from his heartache, but then his head shot back up. The look in his eyes could only be described as deranged madness. "No. This is wrong. We are meant to be together. You belong to me!" In one fell swoop Jesse was off his feet and lunging straight for me. My instincts took over faster than light speed and I was running towards the door. I grabbed onto the cold, brass handle and quickly opened it, fleeing from the cramped space. I slammed the door in his face, hoping that would stop him. Running for my life, I ran down the familiar hallways of my house. I looked behind me and Jesse was advancing all too quickly. Jesse was only seconds away from catching me and so I was forced to begin running again. I ran down the familiar hallways, screaming for help, but nobody saved me. Who would? Kimmy-Jin was out, which meant I was all alone. I was so close to getting out of the building, but only moments away from the door I was tackled. I kicked, screamed, punched, and bit Jesse but in the end I lost the struggle. The last thing I remember was a bloody fist punching my face before I passed out from the excruciating pain.

That's how I ended up here, in a pitch-black room with my hands tied behind my back. Where was Jesse? I struggled against the bonds holding me back, but they were tied tightly. I didn't stand a chance. I tried to inch my chair forward, but when your feet are restricted by rope and your ankle is sprained, it's not easy. The metal of the chair scraping along the floor pierced my ears, creating a sound that I thought would go nicely with my mixes. Unfortunately, it also made a sound loud enough for Jesse to hear. I don't know where he came in from, somewhere equally as dark I presume because no new shadows appeared when he entered wherever I was. "Beca, your awake!"

"St-stay away from me," I murmured. I had meant for it to come out as a demand, strong and unafraid, but instead I sounded like a scared toddler.

"Beca, baby, you hit your head really hard. You don't know what you're talking about," says Jesse. I feel a hand rub my back in what's meant to be a soothing motion but I flinch away. "Beca calm down, I'm not going to hurt you."

"Tell that to my body that hurts all over now," I yell spitefully. Jesse retracted his hand. I could hear his footsteps echo around the room, pacing from side to side, far away from me. For minutes his steps haunted me, never knowing what he was going to do next. Would he leave? Would he kill me? I was completely at his mercy.

Silence. The pacing has stopped. Even though it may mean my death relief floods me that he's stopped. At least he's finally decided on whatever it is he's going to do to me. Waiting is worse than whatever could be coming. With a dark, husky voice he says, "You haven't even felt pain yet." In two quick strides he's on me and his thin, soft lips were pushing against mine. Under normal circumstances I might've been into this, but right now it was horrifying. I sat there, unresponsive to his kiss, hoping that he wouldn't be interested in someone who wasn't into him. That didn't stop him. He continued to push on as his hand reached around my back and pulled me closer until my breasts were pushed in so far against his chest that I felt like they were being strangled. I began pushing away, flailing around as best as I could to make Jesse let go. He only tightened his grip around me. I felt his other hand land on my thigh and I began freaking out so much that I was sure my head was going to explode.

"Back off!" I yell. His lips silence mine again and he forces his tongue into my mouth. I try to battle him for dominance against him, but instead of beating him (no matter how small the victory) it seemed to turn him on. His hand inched closer to my sex and I lifted my feet enough to kick him. I don't know where I hit, but that didn't matter. He recoiled backwards and for a split second I was free as he recuperated from my unseen attack. My brain ran through scenario after scenario of how to escape, each one more absurd than the last. They ranged from knocking him unconscious to calling on my rainbow unicorn to bring me to safety. Before I could initiate any of them Jesse was back on top of me.

"You shouldn't have done that," he murmurs supposedly-seductively in my ear. Suddenly I feel a pair of knuckles dig into my stomach and I know that at least one of my ribs have broken. I moan out in pain, unable to do more. "I told you." He continues his bombardment of kisses and I'm too winded to stop him or even protest. His left hand reaches up to my breasts and began tweaking my nipples. It was revolting. "Don't pretend that you're not completely turned on by this," Jesse threatened.

A cool chill enveloped my breasts as they were introduced to the outside world. My shirt and bra were pulled up over them and Jesse was busy putting his mouth to my B-cup boobs. Trying to appease him to avoid any further injuries I moaned like I was sincerely into it. I could feel that sick pervert smile as he continued to pay special attention to my boobs. After a few minutes of fake moans and kissing Jesse became bored. He slid off my jeans, which I made no effort to help him with, and his teeth began to pull down my underwear. Groping and kissing I could put up with, but there was no way he was going to penetrate me without a fight.

I began to squirm and squeal, refusing to sit still as I did everything in my power to fight him. Unfortunately, he had the upper hand and he quickly stilled me with his muscular hands holding my thighs in place. I could feel his throbbing erection, pushing against my folds. I wondered why he hadn't entered me yet, but I didn't ask for fear of encouragement. "When I fuck you I want you to feel how much I love you! How much passion we have together," he whispered into my ear. "I want you to realize how we fit together in every way possible." I cringe. Then, without any warning, he thrust his whole dick into me. A terrible, ripping feeling that hurt so fucking much, rattled my body. There was no pleasure in it. Unlike the few other times I had sex with a person the pain soon turned to pleasure, this did not. He began thrusting into me, hard and fast, but all I felt was pain and the taste of my tears. I could tell he was very close. What if he came in me and I became pregnant? Oh god! Even if that didn't happen I would eternally have little pieces of Jesse in me that I would never be able to get out completely.

Just as I was about to loose all hope, when I was ready to die rather than continue living this miserable existence, I heard the most beautiful sound I'd ever heard in my life. "Portland Police! Jesse Thornwood put your hands up and step away from Beca Mitchell!" Slowly, I watched as Jesse put his hands up and removed his disgusting erection from my sex and step away from me. "Jesse Thornwood you are under arrest for the kidnapping and rape of Beca Mitchell. You have a right to remain silent."

"I didn't kidnap her," yells Jesse, restraining against the handcuffs. "I didn't rape her. We're in love!"

"That's what they all say kid," says the cop who had previously been reading him his Miranda rights.

As he was being dragged out of the room Jesse called back to me, "I love you Beca! I will come back for you so we can be together! We will be together! Nothing can keep what's meant to be apart."

Two other cops came to my rescue and made quick work of my restraints. Another one ran to my aid and handed me a towel. As I was escorted out of the room I looked around at my holding cell. It was the basement of Jesse's house. I had been here so many times before, grabbing a soda or an extra moth-eaten blanket. I would never be able to look at this place the same way again.

I jolt awake from the terrible nightmare that has plagued me every night for the past three months. I quickly put a hand to my stomach, making sure that my ribs are okay. When I was brought to the hospital they had to do emergency surgery on me. I had lost some blood, three of my ribs were broken, my ankle was sprained, my nose would need plastic surgery to get back to the way it was, and two bones in my left arm were broken. Relief floods my system as I am brought back to reality. I am okay. Jesse is locked up for the next twenty years of his life with no chance of getting out for good behavior. I tell myself that I am safe. I snuggle back down under my covers, but as my eyes close and block out the luminescence from the overhead lights I can't help but wonder, am I really safe?

**Hey guys. I am so sorry. I suck at writing sex scenes in general, much less sex scenes where one party isn't even into it at all. I have never actually had sex so I apologize. I really hope that you're interested enough to continue reading this and I plan for this to be multi-chapter. Of course! Please leave me a review, even if it is just to tell me how much this sucked. Love you all!**

**-Spezria26**


	2. Chapter 2: Escape

Escape

**I always forget what happens in my stories. Like always, so each chapter I'm putting in a recap of what happened in the previous chapter (or I'm at least going to try). Today's Recap:**

**A dream that reveals Beca's darkest memories/fears that show how Jesse had been sending her obsessed-stalker bouquets with notes and believed that the two belonged together. When she said no he kidnapped and raped her in his basement but the Portland (New York), Police intervened before any cuming happened and rescued Beca. Jesse promises that he'll be back.**

**I bet you guys are going to be surprised by this revelation: I actually loved Jesse in the movie. He was so sweet and dorky and very genuine and I really did enjoy his chemistry with Beca. I just made him the antagonist because that was easiest.**

**On with the story!**

Beep! Beep! Beep! Be—My hand slams down on the alarm clock, silencing the wretched, heart attack inducing machinery. A soft groan leaves my mouth as I roll out of bed and land hard on the floor. Shit! I slowly entangle myself from the mutli-colored, polka-dot sheets, pull myself up from the ground, and trudge my way into the bathroom.

After giving my bladder release I lean against the white counter and stare into the dirty mirror that I haven't cleaned in months. I look like crap. My hair looks like a birds nest, my eyes have bags darker than the new Louis Vuitton Sanaga Pump in Sequin Embroidered Fabric, and my complexion is just too hideous to describe. I douse my face in a sink full of warm water, rub in some acne wash, and splash it off. My face doesn't look any better, but at least I'm officially awake. As soon as I run a brush through my thin, brunette hair I part it to the side and put it up in a pull back, half of my hair in a ponytail and the other half flowing down past my shoulders. After some concealer, blush, eyeliner, dark blue eye shadow, mascara, and pale pink lip gloss my morning routine is done. Puckering my lips one last time I assess myself in the mirror before deeming myself fit for going out in public. I turn off the light and rush out of the bathroom. Shit! It's already six o' five. I should be gone in ten minutes.

I rush into my closet and look at my array of clothes. Why do I have so many damn clothes? Oh right, because every 'pop star' needs to look their best according to my manager. I quickly throw on a black cami with a black silky shirt over top and a pair of designer jeans with an intricate, golden pattern alongside of my left leg. I quickly grab my laptop off of the nearby desk outside my closet and my headphones. On my way out I put on a light blue trench coat, my favorite bright red scarf, and my wallet.

My baby, a DeLorean modeled after the one from Back To the Future, purrs to life as I delicately insert my key into the proper hole. Sailing out of my driveway, I make it into town and to my local Starbucks where I proceed to buy a cocoa cappuccino. After paying I make my way over to the studio, sipping my drink at every stoplight I hit. By 6: 57 I'm at the studio and dashing in before I'm deemed late. Unfortunately, despite best efforts, I still was.

"You're late," says Tommy as I rush into the studio. I glance up at the clock approximately seven feet from the ground.

"It's only 7: 02," I reply briskly.

Tommy lets out a heavy sigh. "I have something really important to talk to you about today. Beca, I've told you this a thousand times. You can go from best seller to barely remembered nobody in a matter of moments in this business—"

"That's why you can't waste a second," I finish off for him with a roll of my eyes. I love Tommy, without him there's no way I'd be able to handle everything, but sometimes his repetitive mantras were peeving. "Tommy, I'm only two minutes late. The world hasn't exploded yet. Relax."

"The world may no have exploded yet, but the media has," retorts Tommy. He throws down a heavy magazine with a picture of me on the top. The captions clearly read, 'Queen Bex continues to deal with stalker Jesse Thornwood.' I let out a groan.

"I thought you said that news on this attack would be over by now," I moaned. "I don't want them focusing on my fucking life story. I want my fans to be focusing on the music!"

"I know Beca," says Tommy, sincerely sorry. "I truly thought that the hype about this story would die down. That's why I asked Eve here in order to deal with this publicity issue.

Until now I hadn't even noticed my Public Representative's presence. Eve is a lanky, dark skinned figure with hair a tone lighter than her skin and piercing green eyes that could intimidate almost any paparazzi scum that crossed her path. She single-handedly stopped the tabloids from printing any press about the one night hook-up I had with Colbie Calliat. We were both increasingly drunk that night. Looking up from her phone, she gives me a humongous smile. "Hey Beca! How's my favorite DJ?"

Despite her being another merciless cog in a vicious business I still like her. Out of all the people I work with I probably she's definitely on my Top 10 list out of 100. "Hey Eve," I say, returning the smile but with less vigor. She pulls me into a hug and gives me a tight squeeze before quickly letting go. "I'm doing pretty well. I'd do better if all this Jesse hype calmed down.

"About that," she begins. A sour look overtakes her face as she gives me a nervous, half-hearted grin lacking the original enthusiasm she had held. "I know you're not going to be happy about this—"

"What a way to introduce it. This is really good way to get me on board, telling me 'You're not going to be happy about this," I mock.

She sends me a warning glare that I should fucking shut up. Sadly, Eve is freaking intimidating so I feel obligated to be quiet if I don't want to become little Beca-pieces, all sliced up from her well-manicured fingers slashing me to bits. "Anyways, the label, your entire staff, and I believes that you should... take a leave of absence from Portland." I sit there, gaping. What does that even mean? "We want you to move. We all believe that the best way to deal with this Jesse business is to let it die down and for you to move. We were lenient letting you stay here alone for so long when it could have a damaging effect on your personal safety not to mention the paparazzi can freely stalk your house for information as much as they want. You should leave until this dies down, get away from the lights and the camera flashes and just live a calm, normal life for awhile."

"Are—Are you firing me?" I ask in disbelief. I know I'm still relatively new but some of my songs have hit the Top 100 Chart of iTunes. I'm growing big. Were they seriously foolish enough to kick me to the curb because of some bad publicity? "Because if you are your—"

"No! Not at all," Eve rushes in to stop me. "Your going to keep doing what you do where we move you, it's just that you need to get out the public's eye for awhile and recover. We should never have worked you so hard in the first place. You should be given some time to recuperate from that attack, but instead you jumped head first back into work like nothing had changed."

"I'm not leaving," I say adamantly. "If I wanted to live a normal life I'd be working so mediocre job in a boring old office living with a dog. If I wanted to stay away from the lights and the cameras than I wouldn't have joined this business. I don't want that. I am going to stay here." I cross my arms across my chest and stand firm. I don't need 'time off.'

"The label loves your music and admires your dedication and hard work but you need to leave, for your own personal safety and health more than anything. It's only temporary. After a few months this whole Jesse thing will completely blow over and you'll be back to your classy life here. We'll set you up with you own in-house studio," Eve promises.

I admit that the idea of an in-house studio majorly tempts me. I would love to just wake up and spend it cooped up in my house, blaring beats, but that doesn't mean I'm giving in. "No. I'm not leaving."

"Beca, this isn't optional," says Eve, dropping the good cop routine. "The label will drop you if you don't do this." I'm about to jump in and argue that they can't do that but she prospers on. "The contract you signed states that we can do that and you know that even though you up and coming without us you'll fall. Without us you won't get any other label because you know what kind of pull we have in the industry. We could destroy you in seconds." It's not a threat. It's a promise. This is the side of Eve I hate.

I let out a moaning sigh. She's absolutely fucking right, and that's why I hate her so much right now. If I drop them than I'm a nothing and I'll never get another job in this industry. I'll be stuck working in an office, unhappily married, and dying without contributing something meaningful to this world. "Where would you guys even be sending me if I were to agree to this arrangement?" I ask tiredly.

"We'd be sending you down to Barden, Georgia," confirms Eve.

"Barden, Georgia?" I question, shocked. "I've never even heard of this place before!"

"That's the point," says Eve meaningfully. "We don't want the press to be able to track you."

I sigh. This is a bit much just for the tabloids continuously running trash about my personal life. Couldn't we just ask them to shut up instead? No. Of course not, the tabs are too tricky. They'd find a way around it or they'd print that I wanted them to shut up and my public appearance would appear cold and heartless. "I… can I have a day to think about it?"

"What's there to think about?" Questions Eve. You can either agree to move and keep producing your wonderful music or you can drop the label, not move, and end up as a five-minutes of fame person who nobody will remember in ten years." Ultimatum. Geez, I take it back, I don't think I can possibly like Eve anymore after this.

There wasn't a question. I would never give up my career for anything. Ever. Even if it means moving from my luxurious home, away from my newly reconciled with father, and apart from my best friend Benji. With a small sigh I murmur out, "So when do I leave?"

"As soon as conveniently possible," Eve replies with a sunny smile. God, she just went from ultimatum control freak bitch to the happy ball of sunshine.

"Well, It's not really possible for a couple of years," I reply, testing if I could get away with putting it off for a very long time.

With a 'did you really just go there' frown she responded with a cold, harsh, "Next Sunday."

"Hey, what happened to 'as soon as conveniently possible?" I ask in outrage.

"Well that was the plan, but if your going to behave like a spoiled child this whole time then I'm going to have to set some limits. Say your goodbye's and get packing because you're leaving by next Sunday." With a solid glare she struts out of the room and leaves me completely enraged.

"I'm so sorry—" Tommy begins to say. I shut him up. I don't want to hear it. I can't deal with humanity right now. I storm out of the room and into the studio, drowning myself in the one thing the human race hasn't completely fucked up yet. Thank god for music.

**So what did you think? Getting somewhere! Beca's heading to Barden and guess who's she's going to meet? Guess! Please send me reviews because they make me feel happy and accomplished, even if they are hate reviews. Bye!**


	3. Chapter 3: Life As We Know It

Chapter 3—Life As We Know It

**Recap of Last Chapter:** Eve, Beca's Public Representation and voice for the higher-ups, comes in and tells Beca that they're moving her to Barden, Georgia in order to get her away from the flashing lights and irritating paparazzi. Beca is adamant to leaving but when Eve threatens to destroy her career she has no choice but to move to Badren, Georgia within a week and a half.

"Hall of Fame" booms out through my black headphones, protecting my ears from any unwanted noise that could interfere with the amazing band that is The Script. Eyes closed, I let the music take over my entirety. It's just the sensual sound of the keyboard, the inspiring lyrics written by a group of musical geniuses, the violent beats of the backing track, and finally me. Nothing else exists but us.

"MRS. MITCHELL!" The harsh, grouchy voice of my hired chauffer shatters through my world and I'm forcefully pulled back to reality.

"Yes?" I ask, pushing pause and removing a single giant muff from my right ear.

The driver's features instantly relax as soon as I acknowledge him. "Um… we're here," he says with a sheepish smile, clearly embarrassed that he had yelled at me. My eyes stray away from his old, relatively unattractive face and look outside the tinted windows. Frick'n hell. I wasn't expecting skyscrapers and I had prepared myself for more green shrubbery than I was used to but this is just… absurd. They don't truly expect me to live here, do they? I had watched Hart of Dixie to prepare myself for a small, southern town but even that didn't prepare me!

Little suburban houses lined the streets, cute flowerbeds outside the house and basketball nets in the driveways. Trees swayed everywhere and it seemed almost 90% nature. I hadn't seen this much outdoors since the last time I watched the Discovery Channel's special on the jungle. "This is Barden, Georgia?" I ask in disbelief, hoping against all hope that this was a practical joke.

"Yes indeed, ma'am," says the driver. "Ain't it gorgeous?"

"Um… not really," I respond derogatorily.

"I used to live in a small town like this, everybody knew everybody, it was marvelous," he replies as though he had not hear my rude comment. It was only until now did I realize his southern accent.

"That's… nice," I say, trying not to further insult his childhood.

"Sure is," he says with a big, bright smile. Clearing his throat, he continues on, "Well, we should really get you unpacked."

He swiftly leaves the car and opens my door as I stow my iPod away in my back pocket. "Wait! This is where I'm staying?"

"Yes indeed," he says jollily. "Right over there!" I look towards where his hand hastily points before pulling my bags out of the small trunk. The house is dull yellow (already a turn off due to it's uniformity to the colors of other houses), with the classic perfect white door, off the side garage, well-kept roses, and even the perfect looking wooden porch with a rocking chair to the right. This house can't scream more 'cliché' if it wanted to.

"You're kidding," I scoff.

"No ma'am," he says with a cheerful smile. "Let's go!" He walks slowly, but still with a joyful jaunt in his step as he carries my few, heavy bags along into my house. I watch in awe as he reaches up over the doorframe, grabs what I presume to be the key, and waltzes in like this is all so normal. "Don't just stand there, Miss!" Closing my mouth, I suck up my pride and walk over to my new 'home' for the next few months.

Within four hours everything was set up. The people that were living here previously took all of their stuff with them, luckily though the company had already sent a majority of my stuff over so it was really easy moving in. I just told them to set it up as much like my old place as possible. The only thing left to set-up was my recording studio, which I refused to let anybody else touch, so within four hours everything was set and I had even mixed a few measures of music.

It was only until the grumbling of my stomach could literally be heard over the sound of my twenty-decibels-too-loud music that I realized I am starving. Pulling off my headphones, I push the pause button on my newest mix. The sound of silence in comparison to the sound that had been blazing through the 'phones only moments ago is startling. Quietly, I turn the music back on to avoid utter silence and turn it down just enough so you could hear it from any corner of the house, even if it did sound only like a soft buzzing lull from a distance away. It's almost like a phobia, being without music. I guess overtime you just grow so used to it being there that it becomes almost sickening for it to be gone.

I trudge around my house looking for the fridge, my stomach growing more impatient by the moment. Victory! I finally see the small, distinct light of the fridge only a room away. Rushing over, I throw it open in hopes to see a mountain of food that I can make in five minutes of less. As soon as I open it a beautiful smell hits my face and a wave of disappointment, soon washing it away. I have a fridge full of food, and have no idea how to cook.

Shit! I remember when I attempted to make myself two eggs at my last house. That night I ate out… after the fire department came and put my kitchen out. Accepting that I'd have to do the same tonight, I close the fridge, silence the music, grab my computer off the desk, and walk out the door.

Thankfully, Georgia is rather warm in the summer so I'm barely cold, even at eight o'clock. I have absolutely no idea where I'm headed. Pulling out my phone from my back pocket, I turn on Andy Grammer's "Miss Me" and bring up a map of the small town. Within fifteen minutes I'm standing outside of a small, local diner called 'Fat Amy's.'

Curiously, I stare through the window to see if anybody was there. Fat Amy's… weird name for a diner. I guess the fat is some sort of 'if you come here you'll get fat because you'll never be able to stop eating' sort of gag. Only a small group of two or three bored teenagers sits inside, gossiping about who knows what? Deciding that this barely populated place might just be okay for tonight I stroll into the diner, the bell ringing a high pitched-tune as I open the door.

Instantly, the gossiping girls look up and their talking turns to low and almost silent whispers. "Um… hey," I say awkwardly, approaching the counter. The large blonde whirls around as soon as she hears my voice.

"Wow! You're weird!" Her Australian accent is apparent as she insults me.

"Um… excuse me?" Well if this is customer service…

"No, I mean, I know everybody in this town and only the locals come here, which means you must be new to town… which is weird… because I don't know why anyone would want to live here," she says, her nose wrinkling up as she thinks.

"Oh," I reply. That makes sense. Wait… "Then why do you live here?"

"Grew up here," she replies with a boring shrug. "Plus this diner is family owned and my mom insisted that I keep it in her will." She rolls her eyes as if it's the worst thing in the world.

"Family owned? Huh… why's it called Fat Amy's?"

"Oh," she laughs. "I haven't introduced myself. I'm Fat Amy." I raise an eyebrow as she says it.

"You call yourself Fat Amy?" I ask skeptically. What is she, a future rapper? Actually I'm looking for an up and coming rapper so maybe she's good…

"So twig bitches like you don't do it behind my back." She says it like calling someone a bitch after two minutes is normal. Maybe she's not a rapper…

"Um… ok," I say.

"So who are you, Ms. Mysterious?"

"Beca," I reply, offering a hand for her to shake. She motions for me to say my last name. "Just Beca." Understanding that she's not going to get me to budge on the last name she takes my hand and gives it a hard shake.

"So Beca, are you Jewish, because you look Jewish," she questions. "Then again, you looked deaf when I first saw ya and clearly your not."

"No," I ask, giving her a queer look.

"Are you from New York?"

"California born and raised." Clearly, she was getting annoyed that none of her prophecies were correct.

"Republican?"

"Democrat."

"Scientist?"

"Musician."

"Bieber?"

"Talented." Her nose crinkles in disgust at that response.

"Married?"

"No."

"Gay?"

Pausing a moment, I consider answering falsely. Sure the press is aware of my sexuality and basically the entire world knows but I've never really told anyone because they all already knew. "Yes," I reply truthfully.

"Oh! I called it," she says, fist-pumping up into the air. "You just have this 'I like pussy' vibe coming off of you."

"Um… okay?"

"Yeah, it was so obvious you were hitting on all this." Confidently, she motions down her body. "Sorry to break it to you but I'm straight."

"Riiight." Best just to let people believe what they want. When you're gay it doesn't matter what you say. Anyways, if she's homophobic than it doesn't matter what she thinks.

"It's cool though, the gays and I are tight," says Fat Amy with a smile. "Anyways, so what will you be having?"

"Um… something quick and easy," I suggest. Immediately Fat Amy gives me a look and sends me a wink. What… oh wait! "Not like that!"

"Fine," she says dramatically. "How 'bout a cheeseburger and fries?"

"Yeah, please," I sigh. As 'Fat Amy' walks off to prepare my burger I calmly pull out my laptop and get some basic mixing equipment up on the screen.

Just as I'm about to put my headphones on I hear Fat Amy call out, "Hey, you know what, I'm going to take you around town. You've got to see everything Barden's got to offer." With two fingers she moves them up and down in the air, imitating a sex move that I personally love.

"Um… yeah, sure," I ask, not really listening. I really just want to go back to my music. She's probably just teasing me about sex. She probably responds, but I don't hear her as the music takes over my everything once again.


	4. Chapter 4: Tours and Girls

**Last Chapter Recap:** Beca moves to Barden, Georgia and finds herself a nice house in the boring suburbs with a basic music studio inside. Since she can't cook she goes out to a diner called 'Fat Amy's' and you can imagine whom she meets. Has a strange conversation where she's questioned to be a deaf Jew, a scientist, and gay. Amy offers to take her on a tour of the town, not that Beca was even listening.

For Angels To Fly

For Angels To Fly-y-y

—

I've Been Roaming Around

Always Looking Down

And All—

Ding-Dong!

Fuck! Who the shit could be knocking? I'm going to fucking kill whoever's at my door! I couldn't have pissed off the neighbors yet, could I? It took me fifteen minutes to properly warm up my voice and I had only gotten in one verse before my medley was expertly cut off. I have a deadline… well, not really. I still have months before I even plan on releasing my next album but I like to keep a strict schedule for myself and have a certain amount of songs ready at particular time slots. I'm a heavy procrastinator but music is the one thing I never put off, I love it too much to stay away.

Pushing pause and deleting the vocal track my fingers run across the keyboard, hitting ctrl s. Once it's all been saved I close my laptop (I don't like anybody accessing my tracks until their ready) and go to answer the door.

As soon as I open it I'm met with (approximately) 200lbs of fiery attitude with absolutely no filter. "Hey there homo," she says with a good-natured smile. And so the queer commentary begins. Thankfully, I've been living with it for years and it doesn't matter even matter anymore.

"Um… what are you doing here?" I ask, trying not to sound rude. Seriously though, why is she here? I haven't seen her in like… two days. Stocked up in the grocery story the day after, so I no longer had to go to her diner, not that the food was bad or anything. I just hate socializing.

"I'm here for that tour I said I'd give ya," says Fat Amy. What tour…? When did she even mention a tour? I replay what I can remember of our previous conversation (which isn't much) and can't come up with a single thing about tours.

"When did I ever agree to a tour?"

"Um, when I told you I'd take you on a tour to see all the hottie's around town and you said sure," replies Fat Amy as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.

"Yeah, about that, I'm… kind of busy right now," I make up a lame ass excuse, hoping that Amy swallowed some 'I'm a sucker' medicine today.

"Nope! I don't have a day off for a few more days. My plumbing's only going to be fucked up today, which means that I don't care if you were figuring out the equation that's going to save the world, your coming out with me today," insists Fat Amy.

"But—"

"No."

Letting out a defeated sigh I finally accept my fate. "Fine. Just… give me a few minutes to wash up and look… alive." Considering I'm in my SpongeBob pajamas (Spongebob is amazing, and those who say otherwise should just shut the fuck up), I should probably get dressed and run a brush through my hair.

I quickly run upstairs as Fat Amy invites herself in and closes the door behind her. "Nice place you got here."

"Thanks," I yell back. Hmm… ripped jeans, black camisole, purple shrug, and knee-length boots? Sounds good to me. "Um… there's… water in the tap?"

It's a few minutes before I hear Fat Amy's heavily accented voice again. "Nice equipment," she remarks loudly. Equipment? Equipment! She found my DJ equipment. Sloppily finishing off my eyeliner I rush downstairs and pull on my left boot.

"Don't touch that!" I yell brashly, fumbling down the stairs. I stagger into the DJ room, just short of landing on my face. Amy's face screams guilty as she slowly removes her right hand from the levers. Thank god I turned off my computer so that this won't affect anything.

"Geez, relax Beca, I'm not trying to kill your child or anything," Fat Amy jokes.

"I… I'm sorry," I reply wearily. I don't want to fuck things up with the only person who seems to like me in this stupid, small town. "My equipment is just… very expensive." Not to mention my entire life, but that sounds pathetic.

"So this is what you meant when you said musician?" Fat Amy asks, appearing genuinely interested.

"Um yeah, I'm a DJ." I say, relaxing as my mind wanders back to my music.

"Really? Why are you here when we don't even have a club? How are you even making a living?"

"It was… really hard to connect with people in California," I say, making up a see-through lie on the spot.

"Huh," she says with a thoughtful look. Please believe! Please just swallow the lie. "Cool." I visibly loosen up as soon as she says that. "Can I hear your jams?" Fuck. There's the catch.

"No…" I say with a lilt I my voice.

"Oh come on," she says with a charming smile. She reaches to put the headphones on.

"I'm just very… private about my work until it's perfected," I say, hurriedly making a move to stop her. I reach her just in time to stop her from touching my sacred possession. Grabbing her hand, I drag her away from the studio. "Come on! You said something about a tour?"

"Yeah, I was one of the best tour guides in Tasmania," she brags as I pull her out the door. Taking a second to pause and think she adds, "Then again, I was also the only tour guide with enough teeth to speak articulately."

"So this is the only Pet Shop in Barden," says Amy, pointing out the store as we roll by at about five miles per hour in her car. "I bet you're a dog person!"

"Nope. Cats," I reply with a smile as I see the cutest little cat playing with a ball of yarn in the windows. Fat Amy frowns once again.

"Damn," she mutters. "The next one I know you'll like. Now that we're done with the main part of the town we're going to go to the more out of the way places."

"Um…ok," I say questionably. "Why would I need anything out of the way?" I don't plan on immersing myself in the community or whatever. Unless I get forced out of my house again I'm not going out except for the occasional meal and to buy the necessities.

"Well you need a job, don't you?" Fat Amy asks.

Shit. "Um… I'm living off of my parents money right now," I offer. Oh my god I sound like such a loser. Was there nothing better for me to say? I've been independent from my parents for years. Great. Well that totally makes me sound lame to the only person I know around here.

"Well then you really need a job," comments Fat Amy. "Whoop! There's the roller skating rink. We're getting close."

"Um… to what?"  
Fat Amy speeds up the car and doesn't respond for a couple of minutes. "To this," she finally responds. Looking out the window I see one of the best creations in the world. "It's Barden, Georgia's very own radio station." I find myself practically drooling at the tantalizing idea of working around music that could be broadcast. Even if I don't get to play any of my mixes or even if I'm only stacking CD's, I love being around music.

"Do you think they have any positions open?" I ask, my focus still on the station.

"They actually do," says Fat Amy.

"Let's go right now," I say excitedly ready to open the door and run up there like a puppy is ready to run to a new chew toy.

"Not so fast partner," says Fat Amy in an attempted southern accent so bad I might just drill out my own ears to make it stop. Thankfully she switches back to her Tasmanian accent, "We haven't finished the tour." Just like that she speeds by the only thing that might bring me real joy in Barden outside of my house. I look out the back window in despair. "Don't worry Beca. You can come back tomorrow; the position'll still be there. There's only one more stop on the tour!" Scrunching back down into my chair I sigh. I missed out on creating more music for this? I admit, I had been a little excited when Fat Amy had said 'radio station' but now… I just want to go back home… or back to the radio station.

After a few miles of sulking we're back in two and approaching what looks like a small community within the Barden community. Oh jeez. What is this? A freaking cult? Maybe… but it's happier and with more sunshine.

"This is Barden Community College," introduces Fat Amy. "This is also where my husband, Guy Treble, lives. I know what you're thinking though, 'How could anybody make this fat, sexy ass settle down?" Not exactly… "Well, Guy really is the whole package baby." I raise my eyebrows. I wonder what he's like. Amy stops the car and opens the door. "Come on, let's go see him!"

Opening the door, I ease my way out of the car and grumpily follow Fat Amy. I don't want to seem rude by complaining but I'm also not going to be cheery about this.

Fat Amy walks onto the campus like she runs the whole place. A few students even give her a wave and say a good-natured 'hey' to her. "Come on, he works in the science wing!"

After a few more minutes (all of which Fat Amy prattled on about how awesome Guy is) we ended up at the building that was clearly all about science based upon the fact that it was made out of all glass and I could see the labs from the outside. It looked fucking high-tech. Following Fat Amy inside I'm caught awe-struck by all the amazing technology they have. It's not that I know anything about science or technology, but even I can tell it's pretty high-end for a small town.

"Here we are," Fat Amy announces as she reaches door #5. The entire room is made out of glass, as pretty much every room in this building is, and I can see that Guy is clearly attractive from the back. There's a relatively good looking redhead sitting next to him, back to me, but my focus is mainly on Guy, who Fat Amy raved about.

"Hey baby," says Fat Amy as she strolls on in somewhat rudely, interrupting the meeting. The first to turn is Guy. He is actually really hot for a teacher. He's wearing glasses (that honestly make him sexier) and he clearly has a six-pack under that shirt. If I were straight I definitely would've married him. He's both smart and attractive.

"Hey," he says with a smile as he goes to embrace Fat Amy and give her a chaste kiss on the lips.

"Whop! And Hey Chloe," adds Fat Amy as she pulls away from her husband. I had completely forgotten about the…

Holy Crap. Have I died and gone to heaven? Her eyes are just… the most beautiful, deep shade of cerulean blue. I could stare at them for days, hours, week, and years and never get sick of it. As I lay eyes on her lips I can only imagine kissing those perfectly glossed in light pink lipstick lips. Oh my god. Ever since watching Ariel at age four I've known I'm gay, and more importantly that redheads are definitely my type. That is the only movie I ever liked as a child. I pinch myself (yes I know how cliché that sounds) to make sure I'm not dreaming. I continue travelling her body, practically eye-sexing her right there. She must wear a size C-cup bra. **(AN: Despite me being a girl I legit have no idea what I'm saying when I'm saying bra sizes so… just go with it)** How can she even breathe in those jeans?There are exactly three explanations to what is going on here. I both died and went to heaven, a goddess just came down to Earth, or God and Helen (of Troy) just created the most beautiful woman in existence.

So bewitched by her beauty it takes Fat Amy literally yelling in my ear to awake me from the curse this beauty has put me under. "BECA!" Startled, I jolt out f it and use all of my will power to pull my eyes away from the girl deemed Chloe.

"This is Guy," introduces Fat Amy. "Guy this is Beca." I politely shake his hand, but I barely even notice. The sexiness I thought he first held when I came into the room cannot hold a candle to even a tenth of what Chloe brings to the room.

I hear movement from the other side of the room and my head turns to see Chloe walking toward me. My breath catches in my throat as I watch her hips walking towards me. I didn't think this girl could be sultrier. I was just proven wrong. "Hi! I'm Chloe," she says brightly. Holy crap her voice. Definitely heaven. That's the only place where she could be this gorgeous and have the voice of an angel.

"H-h-hi," I barely stutter out. Way to make a good impression on your first angel Beca! Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!

"Woah there, the arousal in this room just went up 1,000 percent Beca. Keep your lesbianic hormones under control," comments Fat Amy. I can feel my cheeks redden to the color of Chloe's beautiful, gorgeous hair that I just want to run my fingers through. Why can't the earth just eat me up right now?

Chloe lets out a light laugh and I swear I felt my knees go weak when she smiled. "It was really nice to meet you Beca," she says with a lilting laugh.

"Likewise." I'm afraid if I say more I might just blurt out how amazingly beautiful she is and embarrass the shit out of me… if I can even become more embarrassed than I already am.

"Come on lover girl," says Fat Amy, literally grabbing my hand and pulling me out of the room. Maybe Barden isn't as bad as I first thought…

**Yes I know. Beca's reaction to Chloe was a bit over the top but that's just how I write. "Our Pitch Perfect" OTP has finally met and now the real fun begins **

**Anybody on here watch Glee? Well not to be a spoiler but Santana hooks up in the "I Do" episode and… oh my god I was reeling when I first saw it (and not just cause I was drunk. JK ****really**** underage). Still haven't decided about my support of them.**

**I appreciate all follows (they keep me writing) and reviews are always constantly welcome. **


	5. Chapter 5: The Radio Station

**Recap: The last chapter Beca and Fat Amy toured the town of Barden and discovered Barden's small-town radio station. Soon after Fat Amy drove Beca down to meet her husband, Guy Treble, a teacher at Barden University. Meeting with Guy was college student Chloe Beale, who Beca is immediately enthralled with due to her stunning beauty. With an awkward, "Control your lesbionic hormones," from Fat Amy Beca is pulled away from Chloe, still breathless from a simple hello. **

What if Fat Amy is wrong? What if there isn't a job opening? I nervously pull the keys out of the ignition and walk on wobbly legs towards the entrance of the radio station. I need this job. I don't need it for money or anything but just the idea of working in a radio station… sends chills up my spine. I love my job, spinning tracks and shaping the Top 40 Chart with the help of my producers, but there's nothing like working in a radio station. Working in a radio station is more live; it makes me feel more connected with the listeners, like I'm making an impact in their lives. What I play on the radio effects the rest of their day. If I play a bad song or overplay a good song I could set everyone up for a crappy day, but if I play a mainstream nobody with some sick beats I could inspire the person to work harder that day and to obtain that promotion they've been dying for. The radio just holds so much potential, so much more music to hear, it's another pool to delve deeper into.

Reaching for the handle I pull the door open and walk into the radio station. It was a dinky little place, not more than a few rooms big, but god it was amazing. I could feel the instant energy as I stepped in. Inside the studio was a thin, busty brunette speaking animatedly into the microphone; breasts leaned in like she was speaking from them. Those are some of the biggest boobs I've ever seen that aren't 'enhanced', and trust me I know fake boobs, Hollywood if filled with them. I won't deny she's beautiful but nothing like that Chloe girl from before.

Quietly I went up and waved through the window, a small, friendly smile gracing my lips. She sends me a small nod (that somehow appeared flirtatious even though on anybody else it would've simply been a nod) and continues on with her radio show. A minute later she's taking off the headphones and walking out of the soundproof studio.

"You know that you can just call in to make a request," she quipped.

"Uh… yeah, hi, I'm Beca," I say, awkwardly offering a hand for her to shake. I need to work on my people skills.

"I know who you are, you're Beca Mitchell DJ extraoridinare. I'm Stacie," she replies. Her hand ignores mine and moves to my side, caressing my hip. "Now, what can I do for such a beautiful, stunning, sexy girl like you?"

Pulling away with an awkward nervous laugh I reply, "Give me a job?"

She steps even closer this time, "Are you sure that's all you want?"

"Um… yeah," I say nervously, sounding unsure of myself. I am Beca Mitchell, worldwide DJ, and yet I'm stuttering over a silly, awkward meeting with a sex goddess on the prowl.

With a step back and a flip of her hair she instantly backs away. "Well, if that's all you want then okay, sure, we've got a job opening for a superstar like you."

"I—I don't want you to just hire me because of my reputation," I stammer.

"So what do you want me to hire you on?" Stacie questions, still managing to stay flirtatious while clearly trying not to.

"Um… whatever you normally judge people on," I reply awkwardly. I don't really know what I want her to judge me on. My resume is pretty much my reputation so…

"Well then you've still got the job," declares Stacie. "You're pretty and you've got a reputation so good that I've heard of it even before now."

"Sounds good," I say with a gulp and a sigh of relief that I had gotten the job.

"So, I and the rest of the world knew you were moving down South but we never expected here. What's so great about Barden?" Stacie asked curiously.

"Nobody knows who I am here, except you," I say. "I really just want to stay out of the public eye for awhile."

"You mean because of the…" her voice instantly lowers to an almost silent whisper, "Jesse scandal?" The memories rush back and I flinch in my head.

Awkwardly scuffling my feet on the floor I reply, "Yeah, that was a factor."

"I am so sorry," she says comfortingly pulling me in for a hug. I stiffly accepted as her boobs jammed into mine. "Nobody should have to go through that," she whispers in my ear.

Quickly, I pull myself out of her grip, "Yeah, but can you do me a favor?"

"Anything," she says sincerely.

"Don't tell anyone who I am, okay? I want to keep stuff low-key around here. I don't need anymore sympathy."

"Absolutely, no problem," promises Stacie. "Shit! The song is about to be over." Stacie hurriedly runs a hand through her hair, making it look more perfect than before (if that's possible) as she rushes into the studio and throws on the headset.

"That was Maroon 5's latest song, 'Daylight.' As of now we have a new DJ joining us! Get yourself acquainted because, although she literally got the job about five seconds ago, I've got a good feeling about her. So open your hearts and open your ears and welcome Beca the Mecha!"

She motioned me into the station, which I was hesitant about, but couldn't resist being so close. I bounded into the studio and picked up an extra headset.

"Hey guys," I say. "Stacie, I did not agree to that name," I hiss into the headset.

"Well what else rhymes with Beca?"

"Who says it has to rhyme?" In no time we had started our very own improvised act. It felt like before. I finally felt at home.


	6. Chapter 6: The Party

**Last Chapter Recap: Beca applies for a job at the radio station where she meets Stacie, the overly horny radio station DJ. She finally gets into her groove and feels at home. Tallying up her friend count to two people: Stacie and Fat Amy.**

**Sammy McCallister: A) I like, squealed when I got the notification that you were reading this. Also, I guess I made this a "one horse buggy" type town because it was in the South and I was getting a Bluebell (Hart of Dixie) vibe, I suppose. Plus, it simply made the job a bit easier for me.**

"Me and Stacie, being your only friends after being here for three weeks, have decided to throw you a house party," announces Fat Amy. She bangs her hands down on the table as if to finalize the decision, causing her mug full of hot coffee to splatter across the table.

"No, hell no," I whisper, not wanting to draw attention in the crowded coffee shop. I smack Fat Amy on her arm.

"Come on Becs, hear us out," argues Stacie, pulling my attention from mauling Fat Amy. "Everybody new has one, it's a way to get to know new people."

"I don't want to know people. I'm here to get away from the bustle of the city and produce even better music, not to get to know people."

"You wouldn't get the whole small town experience," contends Stacie.

"I don't care," I answer impudently.

"Come on, no human can go longer than a few days without sex and since you seem opposed to my advances, which I think is just because your afraid your not good enough for all this," she motions to her body.

"Or maybe it's because you're a super slut that's probably carrying H.I.V," mutters Fat Amy under her breath. Stacie shoots her a glare and Fat Amy pretends not to notice as if she hadn't even said anything.

"You can find somebody your more comfortable being with until your ready for me," continues Stacie.

"It's not because I'm afraid or not attractive, it's because I don't want to jeopardize our friendship and you're not particularly my type anyways," I comment. It's only until I'm finished talking do I realize how much of a prude I sound like.

"Heard that rumor about you and Colbie Calliat, blondes really do seem to be more agreeable with you," remarks Stacie, unabashedly staring at my body for the ten-thousandth time this week.

"It's more like redheads," I correct rudely.

"Mmm," says Fat Amy, reminding me she's here. "Chloe Beale'll be there and I know you've got a major toner for her!" Chloe. She hasn't been able to escape my brain ever since I met her. Jesus, I can literally feel my stomach flutter just at the thought of her. I just want to run my hands through her gorgeous, red hair. Imagining her biting down on her lip sends a jolt down my spine.

"Chloe Beale?" Stacie questions. "Nice choice indeed. 19 years old, majoring in pediatrics, sexy, and queer as hell." She's gay? Yes! That makes this so much easier.

"What the hell is a toner?" I sputter out. I refuse to be weak. I refuse to give up so easily and tell them that Chloe is pretty much the center of any and all sexual and non-sexual fantasies.

"Musical toner," Stacie explains like it's the most obvious thing in the world.

"Right," I shrug as though that shit's common knowledge.

"So, how's that house party sounding now?" Fat Amy asks, nudging me in the shoulder.

"Still horrible," I lie.

"Come on," prods Fat Amy. "We all know your lying. Just admit it, your underwear is totally soaked through at the thought of her." That's not true… it's only slightly damp. I scoff unconvincingly. "You just confirmed everything I just said," comments Fat Amy.

"Ugh! You guys are hopeless," I moan, knowing there's nothing else I can say. I'm jammed into a corner and I can't come up with any other false testament against them.

"That just means you agree with everything," says Fat Amy, seeing right through me. This is why I don't let people close to me. They're too good at seeing through my bullshit. "We are definitely throwing you this party."

Fuck.

#PumpinUpTheParty

"Hey there, welcome," I say with a forced smile as I invite another random stranger from this screwed up town into my house. Thank God Fat Amy at least let me lock up my recording studio before letting anybody in.

"Thank you so much. It's so lovely to meet you Rebecca, I've heard such nice things about you," the woman, around forty-years old, says nicely. "I brought you a 'welcome-to-the-town' pot roast." Another? This is the fourth one today.

"It's Beca," I correct, trying not to sound petulant. "I'm pleased to meet you to Mrs…?" I fade off as I wait for her to say her name.

"Wu. Wendy Wu **[A.N: Homecoming Warrior]**," she fills in enthusiastically. With a charming smile and a handshake I welcome her into my house and grab the pot roast and drop it lazily on my counter.

After socializing a little bit more with people I really couldn't give a damn about I hear the doorbell ring again as I kindly excuse myself from the dullest conversation of my life. Congratulations, your kid can read at age six. I could read when I was four. The education system has gone down in America.

"Hey and welcome," I say tiredly as I yank the door open. Instantly I feel my knees weaken and my brain melt into a puddle. Fiery red hair and a dazzling smile stares back at me as I stand there dumbly blocking the door.

"Hey Beca, it's good to see you again," she says brightly. It's good to see me? Yes! She remembers me! She likes me! Wait… or is she just saying that because it's polite? A streak of dejection runs through my body. At least she remembers me, that is good, right? No. Wrong. I made an idiot of myself there. Speaking of idiot we've been standing her forever and I haven't responded! Speak, dumbass!

"Um… yeah, I didn't know you were coming. It's really awesome to see you too," I say awkwardly. Was I too enthusiastic? Who, over the age of sixteen, even says awesome anymore? Great. I just labeled myself as the biggest dork ever. Why does she make me so brain-dead? I've been around Justin Timberlake and Kelly Clarkson and never have I felt this way before. Get your shit together Beca.

"Thanks so much for inviting us," says Chloe. She quickly pulls me into a hug that makes my insides stir. As she pulls away I can feel my heartbeat decreasing and her cuddly warmth disappearing. "This is my best friend Aubrey Posen!"

Wait, there was somebody else standing next to her? I look to her side and lo and behold there's a gorgeous blond right by her side. She's nowhere near as stunning as Chloe but the girls at Barden have no shortage on beauty. She gives me a tight-lipped smile and a nod before stuffing another pot roast into my arms. You know what, maybe I'll actually try eating one of these now…

After staring at Chloe like a creeper for a few more seconds I move to the side and motion for them to come in.

"Your house is beautiful," comments Chloe in awe.

"Not too shabby," Aubrey says, impressiveness lingering in her mostly insulting tone.

"Thanks?" It comes out as a question because I'm unsure whether Aubrey means it or not.

"Here, um, let me grab you two a drink. Beers?"

"Yeah, sure," says Chloe exuberantly. Aubrey nods her head noncommittally. I quickly rush my way into the kitchen, which is brimming with pot roasts and potato mashes and other dishes, just lying there on the counter because my fridge is too damn small. Somebody even brought me duck, like a whole duck. I make my way into the overly crowded fridge and pull out some dishes to make room for the pot roast Aubrey gave me. This one is special therefore it will actually go into my fridge before it rots.

After putting the roast in my fridge I grab three beers, take ten deep breaths, and make my way outside. My house is more crowded than the Oscars. Old friends are talking and strangers are mingling as the sound of Jessie J's "Price Tag" rings dully in the background.

I look around for Chloe for what seems like minutes but eventually I find the all-too familiar fiery red hair bobbing gently above the ground. I quickly make my way over to her with rushed "excuse me's" and "sorry's."

"Hey, here you go," I say. It's only until they take a sip do I remember they're college students, which means they're probably not 21. "You guys are 21 and over, right?" I don't want to give alcohol to minors.

"Yeah," affirms Chloe. Her voice says yes but the wink she gives me says no.

Before I can argue she shouldn't drink underage, especially if she's driving back, somebody bumps into me, spilling my beer all over Chloe's white, strapless top. I flush deep, crimson red. Great move Beca! You just spilled beer all over the most amazing girl you've ever met. Idiot! I never should've let Fat Amy and Stacey throw this stupid party. At least then I never would've spilled beer al over Chloe. "I'm so sorry," I apologize stupidly. That's all I can say? Do something! I quickly pull her over to the kitchen and dampen a paper towel, attempting to somehow get the beer out. I'm so stupid! I don't even know what I'm doing. I'm making it worse.

"You're making it worse," Chloe affirms with a chuckle.

"I'll um… do you want to borrow one of my shirts?" I offer, throwing the paper towel in the garbage can. If you're going to fuck up do it with style! Stop acting like a bumbling nerd with acne and glasses. I am Beca Mitchell, world famous DJ. I shouldn't be acting like this around some girl… Chloe is so much more than some random girl.

"Using this as an excuse to get me naked?" Chloe teases.

"Uh… no, of course not," I mutter out. I grab her hand once again and pull her up to my bedroom. Chloe would look so gorgeous naked… splayed across my bed, my body on top of—Stop! Stop! Stop! I rush into my bedroom, Chloe right behind, and dig through my drawer for a suitable shirt.

"Your kind of small, are you sure you'll have anything that will fit me?" Chloe asks.

"Um, yeah, I have this shirt that's like, two sizes too big for me," I offer up. "Not that your fat or anything, your gorgeous, I just… your taller than me." Here it is! Thank god. I need something to stop this conversation. I pull out a plain, black T-Shirt. "Here you go."

"Thanks," she says as I throw her the t-shirt. Before I can offer her the bathroom or at least turn around she just starts stripping. I would close my eyes if I could, but I can't seem to tear them away from her beautiful body. She's so fucking gorgeous. Her shirt seems to move slowly off her body. Her abs are incredible. They're not too masculine but they're just defined enough to see. Imagining touching them… I lick my lips. The shirt moves up higher over her head and her breasts are slowly revealed, bouncing gently up and down in her black lace bra. I think I'm going to die. My breath hitches in my throat. I can't resist. I step closer to her. My brain is faintly screaming, 'stop moving closer!' but I can barely hear it.

By the time I reach her the black t-shirt is on and our faces are only a few inches apart. She feels it too. I can see it in her brilliant, beautiful, ocean-blue eyes. We both lean in a little bit. I can feel her warm breath against my skin. It smells like mint with the slightest hint of beer. My hand shakily reaches up to cup her cheek. She instantly nestles into it, closing her eyes. Our breathing is erratic, heavy and unsynchronized. I lean in further. There's barely any room between us. My lips brush against hers slightly before—

"Chloe!" Both of us jolt away from each other. The moment is lost in the screeching tone of Aubrey's voice. Chloe makes the first move, walking back towards the annoying, bubbly blonde that I'm going to kill. "I was wondering what took you so long. Come on! There's a party to enjoy downstairs."

"I… yeah, I'll be right there," says Chloe absent-mindedly. "I'll see you later, Beca?"

I can't even speak. I'm still dazed from how close I was to kissing her. "Yeah… um, I'll see you around." Chloe and Aubrey leave and five minutes later I'm still standing in the exact same place, not having moved an inch.

I'm.

So.

Whipped.

**I recognize that there are gaps in this story-I apologize profusely. Please try to ignore them (yeah, I know a real author would fill them but, I'm at a loss) or ask a question so I can attempt to fill it with an answer. Also, I know I've sort of... de-Beca'd Beca's character, making her a giant, awkward bundle of nerves etc. I suppose that whole, "An author puts a little bit of themselves into their characters" thing is true. I apologize. I will try to fix that in future chapters.**


	7. Chapter 7: Whipped Cream

**Recap: Beca has a house party, inspired by Stacey and Fat Amy, to help introduce her to the neighborhood and such because she only has two friends after three weeks. Chloe Beale ends up arriving at her house party with her best friend Aubrey Posen. Aubrey shows a disdain for Beca but doesn't particularly speak to her. Beca ends up spilling her beer all over Chloe almost instantly, offers her a shirt, and basically watches Chloe strip. The two, unable to deny the extreme sexual chemistry in the room, are about to kiss before Aubrey interrupts and pulls Chloe away to enjoy the party.**

Pediatrics? Where is pediatrics? Why are there so many wings around this college? Damn it! I stare down at the map that Fat Amy gave me. It basically shows me the entrance, Guy's room, and the medical building. There are no details at all. Ugh! I can't read this! I crumple it up and shove it back into my pocket. I guess I'll just have to wander around until I find… wait, does that say medicine?

I run towards the building in question to find that it is, in fact, the medical wing of the college. I look at the very large building towering over me, made of all glass. I wonder if I can see Chloe from here? I stare up at the building, rays of sunlight half-blinding me, as I stare into the classrooms. I see a couple of redheads but nobody whose hair is as blindingly bright as hers. I think I spot Aubrey; the hair looks right and her face emits just the right amount of fear and distant kindness.

Wait… why is everybody packing up? Why is everybody leaving? Shit! I prepared for this and everything but now that it's happening… shit!

What am I doing? This is so stupid? How important is a shirt? Why did I drive all this way? I look down at the box I'm carrying, wrapped in actual wrapping paper with all these cartoon hearts and a bow on it. I am so stupid! Why did I gift-wrap Chloe's shirt? I mean, who does that? Somebody who clearly can't get their feelings in check and is trying way too much.

It's time to abandon ship. This was a dumb idea anyways. Chloe probably doesn't even like me. I am an idiot! Why did I even come here? I should never have left my house. I got kicked out of Portland because I was attracting too much attention! This was stupid. Damnit! It's not like my love life has been spectacular anyways! I should just give up. I'm leaving. I'll just… leave this with Fat Amy or something and she can return Chloe's shirt to her, right? Yeah…

"Beca?"

Fuck.

I turn around very slowly. I'd recognize that voice anywhere. It's way better than anything that could ever be created on a computer's mixing tracks. I wonder if Chloe's a good singer? She must be. Nobody with such a majestic voice can be a bad singer. Wow she looks good. That shirt hangs off her so perfectly and damn, I swear to God that you couldn't even fit a pin into those jeans their so tight.

"Um, hi?" I say awkwardly. I stare down nervously at my body. It isn't that I look bad, I keep in shape and all, but I couldn't compare to Chloe if I tried. I should've like… dressed better or something.

"Hey what are you doing here?" She asks coolly.

"You," I blurt out. What? Why did I say that? "Your shirt, I mean," I say, stumbling over my words. I forcefully thrust the package towards her. What am I doing stupid, she has like, a crap load of books in her arms! "Sorry, do you need some help with those," I offer, motioning towards the books and opening up a free hand.

"No it's okay, builds up arm muscle and stuff," she says, blowing off my offer to help. "Thanks for returning my shirt. You didn't need to gift wrap it or anything, you could've just given it to me." She smiles at me and I feel like I'm on cloud nine.

"Yeah… I just… wasn't sure." Wasn't sure of what? Oh my god, how come I can't act cool around the one person whose opinion I actually care about?

"Well it's very nice of you," Chloe replies graciously.

"Yeah, um, do you want me to give it to you because your arms already look kind of full and all," I ask.

"Well, I have about ten minutes before I have to get to work at the campus coffee shop so why don't you come and grab a coffee with me and we'll put all of my shit down there," she offers.

Coffee? Wait. Is this like a date? Of course not stupid it's just where she works dumbass! Does that mean I should order coffee when I get there? What am I going to talk about with her as we walk there? I don't know what to say. How about you start with, "Yes."

"Great," she says enthusiastically. "It's not too far away." So we walk, me and the most beautiful girl I've ever seen, walk around college, a place I vowed never to go, as I carry around some stupid shirt that just became my favorite object in the world because it gave me an excuse to talk to Chloe.

We walk in silence for a few seconds before I finally come up with something to say, "So, you're majoring in pediatrics?"

"Yes," she says with a big, brilliant smile. "I love working with kids! They're so full of life and creativity and they're so innocent! It's so much harder to work with adults. They're too serious." Chloe crinkles her nose. "They always want you to tell it to them straight. Kids are always fun and they don't take life the same, boring way adults do. They don't waste it worrying. They just inspire hope wherever they go. I mean, nothing moves a person more than a child."

The way she talks about kids is… amazing. The way she just talks in general just lights up a room. She reminds me of a kid. She's so… vivacious and she seems so bright and bubbly. She doesn't let life hurt her or scar her the way other people do. That's what makes her so beautiful. It's only until after do I realize I said all that out loud. I blush so hard I must look like a tomato.

"That's so sweet of you," she replies, eyes tearing up ever so slightly. "I would hug you if I could," she says, signaling back to all of her books.

"It's okay, I don't really do hugs anyways," I reply shyly.

"I don't know, my hugs are kind of special," she replies with a wink. I'm about to melt, and it's not just from the unusually unnatural heat in Georgia.

"We're here!" I stare up at the small building labeled Luke's. It's cute. It's quaint. It's dull in comparison to Chloe. "Well come on, I can't be late!" She runs straight in, grabs her shirt, goes behind the counter, and dumps all of her stuff somewhere in the back. The next time I see her she's wearing an apron that somehow makes her even more attractive with a nametag saying Chloe pinned to her chest. "So, do you want anything to drink or something?" She offers as she puts her hair up into a messy ponytail.

"Yeah, sure, do you guys have… coffee?"

Chloe laughs a laugh that sounds unexplainably beautiful. "We're a coffee shop Beca."

"Right," I blush. "Um, can I have a coffee, two sugars, milk, and whipped cream?"

"Whipped cream?" Chloe asks with that signature smile that hasn't left her face this whole time. "Maybe your more like a kid than I am." She laughs once again as a nervous laugh hits my throat.

I wait patiently as she brews up my order. Not long after she reappears, holding my exact order, almost overflowing the cup. "Thanks," I say with a smile. "How much is it?"

"On the house," she replies. Could this girl get any more perfect? She was generous and, I take a sip, holy crap that tastes great, she makes a fantastic coffee.

"I can't do that," I reply, continuing to pull out my wallet.

"No, I won't except any money," she says adamantly.

"I don't care," I say, laying a twenty out on the counter.

Her hand touches mine, curling the twenty in my hands. Is it possible for me to feel a high by just touching her smooth, warm skin. Fuck this vampire's phenomenon sweeping the nation. Chloe's way better than some sparkling bloodsucker. "How about you take me out for dinner tomorrow, seven o'clock, and you can pay then?" She asks.

"Absolutely, sure," I say.

"Perfect, it's a date," she says, letting go of my hand.

Date? Did she just say date? That was a date? Oh my god. She just said date didn't she? I'm going on a date with Chloe Beale? Chloe Beale likes me? I'm going on a date with Chloe Beale. Oh God what do I do now?


	8. Chapter 8: Dates in the Dark

**Recap: Basically, Beca throws a house party. Chloe shows up. Beca spills beer all over Chloe's shirt and offers her a new one. Chloe and Beca almost kiss. Aubrey barges in like a mili-second before actual lip contact and the entire fan base throws eggs and tomatoes at her. Beca then shows up at Chloe's college to return the shirt and ends up asking Chloe on a date/Chloe asks her on a date.**

** Also, you know it was never my intention, but let's just clarify. Beca is like a total dork. She's that adorable geek that's really nervous on the inside and no, I have no idea how she got into the business with that attitude but it happened. Or at least, her inner-dork is always out around Chloe. Come on though, Beca would still make an adorable dork.**

My favorite color has always been purple, like a deep dark purple. It's always been a good luck charm for me. I wore my favorite purple tank top under my costume to opening night of my fifth grade play, I was wearing purple Nike sneakers to my first audition that got me my record deal, and I wore long purple dress when I received my first Grammy. Purple was just my lucky color. I had decided that I was going to need as much luck as possible if I was going to pull this night off. So, now I stand, in a loose purple top, spotless white pants, purple sperrys, and my hair pinned up with a purple pin. Yet, when I arrive at Chloe's dorm at 7pm sharp and she opens the door, I feel incredibly betrayed by purple.

I didn't think she could get any more perfect. Still, in the sexiest tight pink dress I've ever seen, I'm blown away. I feel my legs give out as I grip for something, anything, to stop me from falling. My hands grip the cold doorframe in an awkwardly conspicuous manner that makes it all-too-obvious to see why I'm doing it. "You okay there?" she jokes, her hand reaching comfortingly for my arm. I swear in that one touch I felt like my skin was on fire.

"Yeah um… I'm fine. I just… weak moment… haven't eaten," I respond breathlessly, trying to come up with some other excuse. Fuck you purple. I'm making a complete idiot of myself! Beca, confidence, come on! Clearly luck is not on my side today, which pretty much means I'm fucked, but I have to keep going because there's absolutely no way I'm going to act like a gawky teenaged boy in front of this angel.

"Well then, I guess should be getting you something to eat," quips Chloe. "Let me go grab my purse and we'll be on our way." She clicks away on those marvelous three-inch heels and I swear, they will be the death of me.

Relax. Focus. Breathe in. Breathe out. _I'm bulletproof, nothing to loose. Fire away, fire away._ I let the lyrics of David Guetta's famous and inspiration music flood through me. The steady but catchy beat soothes my soul until I can almost feel my heartbeat match the music. The familiarity of the music calms me down enough to catch my breath and prepare me for what's to come.

"Titanium?" I feel my heartbeat suddenly speed up, destroying the tranquil beat that had me prepared and ready. I will never be able to relax around her. Every nerve in my body just becomes hypersensitive whenever she's around. I can't help it. I want to remember everything about her

"Uh… what?" I ask oh-so-articulately. Is she a mind reader now? Why do I feel like I'm in Twilight? The perfect, sexy Chloe is a mind reading vampire and I'm just that idiot human who is so out of their league. I should just leave now. I don't stand a chance with this incredible creature in front of me.

"Titanium, was that what you were humming?" Was I humming? I didn't even realize. Well, at least I know she isn't a mind reader. What is she then because this alluring, mysterious woman cannot be human?

"Yeah."

"I love Titanium! That song is my jam, my lady jam." Her eyebrows rise in a gesture of pure sex. I can feel my cheeks heat up to temperatures so hot that not even a cockroach could survive. I feel a rush of heat down there as I imagine Chloe, absolutely naked with Titanium playing in the background as she… Get your head of the gutter Beca!

"Uh… um." I try to come up with words, any words that could make me seem more intelligent than a pile of goop, but I can't. How in the world do I respond to that? I've had girls send me underwear in the mail, come up and just start grinding on me, even a few actually whisper something around the same guidelines as Chloe just said, but when she says it I have no idea how to act. Why does this girl always have me so tongue-tied?

She lets out that beautiful, unforgettable laugh of hers that brightens up every dark corner of the world. "Come on, let's go eat," she says, closing her door. "Maybe we can start having a conversation that consists of more than one word on your part," she teases. I try to move, but watching her hips move that way, I can't seem to function. With another loud laugh she grabs my hand and pulls me out of the building, which seems to just barely pull me out of my trance, but now I'm so focused on her soft, smooth hand in mine I'm still just a brainless mush pile.

"Uh… um… my car's just outside," I say, finally able to speak as we're about to leave the building. I never want this hallway to end, as long as she just keeps pulling me along with her. Unfortunately, the fantasy ends as the cool wind blasts in my face and a gasp escapes Chloe's perfect lips as she let's go of my hand and brings them up to her mouth.

"Is that…?" She questions, not trying to sound presumptuous in case it's not what she thinks it is. It is.

"Yup."

She squeals and before I know it her body is flush up against mine as her arms wrap around my neck in an impromptu hug. "You got a limo!" I'm a rich fucking DJ living in the middle of nowhere courting a veela, of course I got a limo. For once, I feel like I've done something right tonight. Maybe it won't be so bad… "I hope it's sound proof because I don't want to scar the driver with everything I'm going to do to you in there," she husks in my ear.

Oh.

My.

God.

Just when I thought tonight wouldn't be such a fuck up on my part.

"Are you coming?" My eyes, which were formerly glazed over in self-pitying thought, flick up towards Chloe, already sitting in the limo. I am both nervous, scared, and eager to jump inside that limo. So with one last breath and a prayer sent up to the god of all things music, I send him a plea, please don't let me make a complete fucking idiot of myself… too late.

**143**

"Mitchell," I say confidently as we walk into the sushi restaurant just a town over from Barden. I finally calmed down a little bit in the limo because as I was freaking out over the fact that Chloe might try something I totally was not ready for, yet so very ready for, it turns out that she just wanted to talk to me. It turns out that besides being incredibly gorgeous and a soon-to-be pediatrician she was also a great singer and she really loves the Harry Potter series.

"Oh, yes Ms. Mitchell. Would you like hibachi or…?" I look over at Chloe, silently leaving it up to her.

"I've always loved hibachi!" Chloe responds with glowing eyes. The woman nods and leads the way.

"Thanks," I say as she seats us. She bows her head and quickly leaves.

"It's really empty here," remarks Chloe. "I've never seen it so… void of life."

"Yeah, well, I guess that's what happens when you rent out the restaurant," I respond with a shrug of my shoulders. Fuck! That just sounded incredibly over-privileged. I sound like a spoiled brat. Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!

"Private limos, renting out an entire restaurant, Beca Mitchell, please don't tell me your part of the mafia," Chloe teases with a suggestive eyebrow.

"No," I say with a laugh and a shake of my head.

"What then? Drug dealer? Contract killer? No! I know what you are. You are a prostitute," says Chloe decidedly.

"Why are they all illegal?" I ask with a soft but hardy laugh.

"Because you are so different. You're against the norm, which means your job would have to be against the norm. Plus it would be a waste if you weren't a prostitute, I mean; you are like pure sex over there. I'm sure plenty of people have paid millions for you."

"Not quite," I say with a laugh. I don't have it in me to tell her that if anybody at this table is a symbol for walking sex it's Chloe. Marilyn Monroe has nothing on this breathtaking bombshell in front of me. "Try struggling musician."

"Musician? What do you play?" Chloe asks.

"Um... I don't exactly play anything. I'm a DJ of sorts," I reply.

"You rented a restaurant and we came here in a limo. What exactly is your definition of struggling?" Chloe asks with a grin.

"Job as a local radio host, pays a really well," I wink jokingly.

Thankfully dropping the subject Chloe continues on, "I'd love to hear some of your stuff sometime!"

"Um… maybe," I offer. She's probably heard my music a couple of times but hasn't realized that my alias, Queen Bex, and I are one and the same. I can't exactly play her my stuff because then she'd realize exactly who I am. I'm not exactly sure how she **doesn't** know who I am, which sounds somewhat condeded, thank god for small towns I suppose. Everybody else I've dated knows exactly who I am, which isn't so bad, but it's refreshing that Chloe is ignorant.

"Why'd you move to Barden anyways? The few people who actually do know about Barden leave as soon as they possibly can," comments Chloe.

"Are you planning on leaving as soon as you get the chance?" I ask curiously.

"Depends," she replies flippantly.

"On…?"

Her voice lowers and she stares directly at me so I feel like I'm drowning in those brilliant blues of hers, "If a reason to stay pops up." We both know exactly what she's talking about. She's putting some feelers out. She's letting me know that she doesn't plan to stick around, but if something between us happens, she would stay for me.

It's humbling to know that an angel would do something for you. I wouldn't dare dream of confining this beautiful woman, though. There's no reason to, I'd follow her anywhere.

"I sure hope one does," I husk back.

**143**

"Holy shit that was delicious," moans Chloe as she finishes off the last of her surprise, specially made dish.

"I don't think I'll be able to move until next week," I respond in approval, hand rubbing happily over my full stomach.

"Thank you so much for this incredible dinner, Beca."

"Absolutely, no problem," I reply.

"Here's the check, miss," says our waiter from the night. I don't even remember his name; my focus was solely on Chloe.

I nod to the boy as both my hand and Chloe's reaches for the check. "Nope! I've got this. I still owe you for the coffee," I say cheekily. A gentleman doesn't let the woman pay. I'd pay one million dollars for a night with Chloe any day.

"You already paid for all of this," says Chloe, referring to the decorum of the restaurant, "I should pay for the meal."

"I'm afraid I can't let you do that," I say with a chuckle, gripping the check and pulling harder for it.

"Oh really?" Chloe asks. She leans in so close I can feel her breath blend with mine. Unable to formulate words with Chloe so near, her scent permeating my nose, I am only able to nod.

She leans in closer and I know what's about to happen next. I can't believe this is about to happen. Both of us lean in a centimeter closer, so close that our lips are just barely touching. "Are you sure?" She teases sexily. My hormones killing me, I can't hold out any longer. I move the millimeter's distant between us and fiercely pull Chloe to me.

I know how cliché it sounds, but I felt fireworks. As soon as we kissed I could feel my heart start to pump and all of my insides light a vicious fire. It was perfect. Not even my dreams could compare. I had to keep my eyes open, just to make sure it was really happening and I wasn't dreaming, that she wouldn't disappear on me. Her lips molded against mine, sucking sweetly. Her lips were silky smooth and feather soft. The pressure of her against mine as she got up out of her chair and moved her hands to my waist, was incredible. I could literally sparks surrounding us…

Fwish…

The lights… where did they…?

_Suddenly, I'm back with Jesse, tied to a chair and as helpless as I've ever felt. I can't move. I can't breathe. How did I get here? Why is he kissing me? I can feel my chest begin to heave as I hyperventilate. What's happening? I've been here before. Jesse is in prison. Why is he back? How did he find me?_

_ "Beca!" I hear a distant voice call. I try to hone in on it. Rescue? "Beca!" _

Suddenly, I'm back at the sushi restaurant, Chloe's there, holding onto my arms and shaking me like a cereal box. "What happened?" I ask, my hand reaching for my reling head.

"There was a temporary blackout from the storm outside and you just… freaked out. You started hyperventilating and muttering for help," Chloe explains, concern etched into face.

A blackout? I know what happened now. I haven't… I haven't been able to sleep with the lights off in months because of… the incident. I can't without all these… memories flooding my system. This is the first time in months I've been in pitch black. "Beca, are you okay?"

Holy Shit.

Fuck. My. Life. It hits me. I just made a complete idiot of myself in front of Chloe, on our first date, during out first kiss. I'm incredibly temped to just hurl myself out the window and into that storm outside. "Yeah… I'm fine," I say, trying to play down my freak-out.

Chloe looks at me warily. "Okay," she says, suspiciousness seeping through. She sees now! I am damaged goods. She doesn't want to be with me anymore. I should just take her home and leave her alone. I don't deserve her and she shouldn't have to deal with all my problems.

"I'll just take you home," I sulk, paying for the food and leading her outside of the restaurant.

It's only until after I drop Chloe off and get home, securely in my bed, does the reality of what happened hit me. My only response is the one thing I promised I wouldn't do. When the Police found me that night, I promised myself I wouldn't let Jesse control my life or weaken me. I was going to live by the saying, 'What doesn't kill you makes you stronger.' I didn't feel stronger tonight. I had emotional whiplash and I didn't know how to express what I was feeling, except for letting it escape through my eyes. Helplessness crawls under my skin.

Right before I fell asleep, I saw Jesse's face flash before my eyes, controlling my thoughts and weakening what little resolve I had left.

**Yeah, I know, I suck. It's been like over two months since I've updated. I'll make you a deal. Don't kill me, and I'll finish the story. It's going to happen. I was in a rut before, but I promise you it will happen. Brittana pinky promise. Later luvs!**


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